


Connotations: 02. Direction

by Ira_Dunfort



Series: Connotations [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 Years of Pining (Good Omens), 6000 Years of Slow Burn (Good Omens), ALL THE FIRSTS, Attempt at Humor, Bad Puns, Best Friends, First Dates, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Puns & Word Play, Series of Connected Ficlets, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), So Please Have Patience, Tags Apply to the full Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-06 04:29:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20285419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ira_Dunfort/pseuds/Ira_Dunfort
Summary: Connotation (noun): the associated or secondary meaning of a word or expression in addition to its explicit or primary meaning.Or: Reality, as it turned out, was a fickle thing, and a romantic."There is this settlement I'm supposed to visit. But, er, I got lost. There is hardly anything I can use to orient in the desert.""Sure, there is." Crawley laughed and threw his arms skyward, fingers fanning out. "There arestars."





	Connotations: 02. Direction

**Author's Note:**

> All parts can be read as standalone, but, come on, you know you want _more_.
> 
> This part had been so hard to write and I can't even tell you why. I kept rearranging things, deleting entire paragraphs, picking and plucking words and phrases. If I touch it one more time, I might wreck it. So. Here you go. Take it away from me.

Direction (noun):  


  1. the line along which anything lies, faces, moves, etc.
  2. a purpose or orientation toward a goal that serves to guide or motivate

  


02 - THE DESERT - 3976 BC

  


Crawley poked at the campfire he lit outside the natural alcove of red stones. Why were desert nights so cold, what was the idea behind that particular nonsense? He huddled deeper into his tunic. It was still better than Hell, he had to admit.

He had talked Lucifer himself into letting him back up here. It hadn't even been that hard, really. There had been rumours Below. Rumours, that, somewhere, was an angel with short platinum curls drifting from settlement to settlement, blessing humans, inspiring them to be good. _‘Which has to be stopped, my Lord, Satan, listen to me. Can't have humans be too good or else Heaven will automatically recruit them all upon their deaths. That’s a thing now. If we don’t do something to counteract their righteous nonsense you will run into the same old ugly faces down here in Hell for all eternity.’_

They named him The Adversary. It came with a full-time job on Earth, wiling the humans that kept popping up out of thin air all over the place into … well, it was all rather vague. Trouble, Crawley decided, he'd just stick with trouble. Lots of wriggle-room with that. A well-placed remark mumbled _here_, and you could watch a feud rise up _there_.

The sketchy description of the heaven-sent agent could just be a coincidence, but you never know until you go up there and take a look. Could be anyone. Crawley was all for taking a look. He wanted to see him again.

He stirred the fire up a bit more.

Every time he made it to a place where the angel had been spotted, sticking out like a sore thumb being all white and gold among dark-skinned humans in tan clothes, he was already gone. It had been decades of near-misses, two and a half decades that had passed since time was a thing. Maybe if he stuck around in one place long enough the elusive angel would have to come along to foil him. But then what?

Despite being in the middle of the yet unnamed nowhere, he heard steps approaching.

"I'm sorry to intrude, I saw the fire and you see, I've been wandering for only God knows how long through these dunes until I reached the first trees and stones, so I was wondering if I could- Oh, hello there, Crawley!"

There he stood, illuminated by the warm light of the fire. A shy surprised smile on his lips, hands tightly twisting at the frayed cloth of his white sleeves.

"I, er.. Where are my manners, I never introduced myself? I am, I mean, was the Guardian of The Eastern Gate, Aziraphale, and, er, now principality." The angel cleared his throat. "Are you my, I mean, the...?"

"Adversary. Yes." Crawley barely kept a hiss out of his voice. "It seems sso."

"Oh." The other seemed relieved, his posture softened, and he smiled brilliantly. He stepped closer before sitting down on a rock that clearly hadn't been there a moment ago. "Could have been worse."

"Now, now, don't insult me."

Aziraphale had the audacity to chuckle. Crawley didn't complain about that. Not when the other was finally here, right in front of him, his hair looking like spun gold in the firelight.

"I think they only made me a principality because I was already in the vicinity. I was here for your first temptation. I might as well stick around and thwart any and all further ones if hell decided to meddle with humanity."

"Suggestion."

"Come again?"

"It was a _suggestion_. I was only suggesting that Eve could have a nibble of the unguarded tree's fateful fruit."

"Oh, well. Uhm, about that." He averted his eyes, letting his view roam from alcove to rock to another rock, before settling back on Crawley again. "I was on tree duty."

"You what?"

"I was supposed to guard the tree." He waved his hand. "Shoo them off if they came near it. I had a sword for a reason."

"You wouldn't have hurt them." The demon said matter-of-factly.

"I did, though. Now they are out here." He grimaced.

"Eh, it's not so bad." Crawley threw his legs out, digging his toes into the sand. "They have free will, make their own choices, now that they _can_ make their own choices. Even if some are plain stupid." He shrugged. "That's why we are here, right? To nudge them a little in either direction."

They fell into silence, the angel lost in his thoughts. Crawley let him have that moment, let it sink in.

"Do you want some water?" The angel asked tentatively. "It's quite refreshing to drink it, as I have found."

Crawley crossed his arms and stared down his nose at the offered waterskin.

"Trying to kill me, already?"

"Oh," the angel held his hands up, pacifyingly, "No, no, it's not _holy_ water. Freshwater, right from a well, some… I don't know how far away." He frowned in the general direction he came from. And missed.

"Relax, I'm just teasing." The demon sniffed, a grin tugging at his lips. "But, no. Really, I can't take offerings from an _angel_. Just isn't right. Wrong, I mean."

"Hm, yes." Aziraphale, looking mildly embarrassed, then proceeded to take a few gulps himself. He undoubtedly was enjoying it, Crawley had to admit.

"There is this settlement I'm supposed to visit. But, er, I got lost. There is hardly anything I can use to orient in the desert."

"Sure, there is." Crawley laughed and threw his arms skyward, fingers fanning out. "There are stars."

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes on the demon. "Why aren't you on your way then? I'm pretty sure we're heading to the same place, there isn't much else to go to. Yet."

"Probably." Crawley sniffed, absolutely not admitting to the fact that he was heading in the direction the angel had appeared from. "But’s too cold. I'd rather stay by the fire at night." He then shifted into his serpent form for emphasis, coiling up right where he had been sitting, his eyes transfixed on Aziraphale, glinting in the light. It was an impressive feat to shift so smoothly, he was rather proud of it.

Yet, why was the angel simply smiling at him, cheeks perked? He flexed his scales in exasperation.

"You do know the way, then?"

"Ssure I do. See that bright glowy one up there?" the snake's snoot pointed right up, "Never lose it out of ssight and orient yourself on that constellation," he swung his head, tongue flicking at the starry sky, “right there and just walk until you bump into either crocodiles or humans. Both seem to be rather fond of the river and one will lead to the other."

"We could go together." Aziraphale prompted. He didn't even wait for an answer, rose onto his feet, patted sand off his robe and strode to the serpent.

To rudely pick him up.

"What are you doing?" The serpent flailed, single limb that he was.

"Manhandling a demon." The angel draped him over his shoulders. "Snake-handling, rather. Stopping a demon from filling the night with terror."

"_You're_ the terror!"

"You have to admit it seems reasonable, don't you think? Predators surely wouldn't attack me with you around."

There it was again, that irritating heartbeat.

"Sssurely. I'm not a weapon to carry, mind you." Crawley, despite himself, all but melted into the warmth, flopping his head on Aziraphale's hair. "Turn a bit more left." He remembered to flick his tongue at the campfire which vanished in an instant. No need to litter. "The _other_ left, Aziraphale."

“Oh, of course.”

The angel began walking, keeping his hands cupped around the curving serpent and his eyes tracing the star-spattered sky. Crawley wrapped himself a little tighter around him, just in case. Aziraphale was something else entirely. He seemed to have a mind of his own, relying on intuition, or perhaps he was just acting on gut feeling. Like he had done when giving up his sword. Where would an attitude like that take him?

Turns out it was possible for a snake to frown.

"Entertain me, kidnapper."

"You are no child, Crawley." He petted him. _Petted_. "But, to be frank, I actually am supposed to keep an eye on you. It's why I am here on Earth, after all."

"Yes, yes, to thwartingly thwart me. I got that." The serpent stretched forward, turning his head to look at the angel, trying his best to look unimpressed.

"I do have to ask you something." He tipped up his snoot.

"I'm not sharing my plans, you are my enemy." Aziraphale pushed him a little further up his shoulders for balance.

Crawley flicked his tongue against the angel’s forehead. "Why do you keep your hair so short? Seems a bit off from the usual heavenly dress code."

"Well, if you must know. It becomes unruly when it grows out."

The serpent fell into a hissy fit of laughter.

"Bite your forked tongue." The threat had no weight at all, not with that audible smile playing around it.

"How, er-" The angel mused, eager for conversation, tilting his head to match snake's odd angle. "How do you keep yours so wavy?"

"I braid it before I sleep." He bent upwards in a substitute for a shrug, nonchalance intended to cover vanity.

"You sleep?"

"Yes. A perfectly valid way to spend time when there is nothing to do. No use in staggering through the night, no humans to find to rile up."

"I don't think that's quite right, there are fiends lurking in the night."

"Exactly. They don't need _me_. They can go on lurking fiendishly fine on their own."

"You know, Crawley, it is said that evil never sleeps." He cocked a brow at the snake.

"Eh, I do." The demon huffed and slithered back onto Aziraphale’s head. That hair was as soft as it looked.

"Hmm." Crawley could physically feel the thoughtful hum of the angel.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm thinking." He tilted his head, addressing his quasi-passenger, but lost his gaze in the bright starry sky.

"Only gets you into trouble, that." Crawley waved the tip of his tail like a wagging finger.

They spent the entire night in comfortable, too easy conversation about hilarities caused by pressed and fermented grapes, the silly stories humans came up about the constellation of stars, anecdotes about the people they had met, the settlements they had been to. They didn't talk about their respective orders, they couldn't do that. But they told each other _everything else_.

The angel, despite knowing the risk, did enjoy the attention. The demon was surprisingly polite with him, forthcoming even. He was poking fun at him, yes, but it felt… friendly, for lack of a better word. There _had _to be a better word.

And, oh, Crawley had _basked_ in Aziraphale's laughs throughout the night, felt it in his entire body as he had been curled around the angel. The sun, in his opinion, had nothing on the warmth of the angel's smile. Said sun, as if on cue, came up, shades of red and orange melting into delicate yellow and bright blue above a group of tents in the distance.

"I probably should, uhm..."

"Yeah. No reason to... you _know_."

"Yes, you're right."

Crawley slithered off him, down into the still cool sand of the dune's slope. There he stood, back in his black robes, one hand on his slanted hip, the other fixing his fiery hair. The demon took his leave with a lingering gesture.

“Don’t forget to thwart me.”

“I’d never.”

There was that little known fact that was rarely brought up. Like other creations of the Almighty that were graced with feathered wings, angels had an unerring sense of direction. How else would they be able to be in the right spot at the right time?

Aziraphale was no exception.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still trying to get back into the flow of writing. It's been so long, my mind isn't as dark anymore, so don't expect any quality angst in the future. Thank you to each and every one of you hitting kudos, you make me feel all happy and mush.
> 
> Up next: Oysters, chocolates and pineapple pizza. Sounds disgusting? It sure is. Disgustingly _sappy_.


End file.
